


A Cord of Three Strands

by lielabell



Category: Power Rangers
Genre: Angst, Kimberly's POV, Multi, Prejudice, True Love, polyamorous, polyandrous, strength in numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You squinch your eyes shut and try not to think about it any more.  Try to let it roll off your shoulders because you are a big girl and you have made your choice and now you have to deal with the consequences.  And no, it’s not fair.  It’s not fair at all, but you knew it wasn’t going to be fair when you got into this.  You knew that people would scratch their heads and look at you funny and that no matter how much you tried to explain, how understanding people might be, there would always be that space between what you are and what normal is considered to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cord of Three Strands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psyco_chick32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyco_chick32/gifts).



You know this shouldn't work, this thing you are part of. You know it down deep in your soul. People pair up, form couples. They don't trio up. A triad is not something that applies outside of math. And yet, somehow, it works for you. The three of you.

Polyamorous, it's called. Or, more specifically, polyandrous, though none of you are married.

It's an awkward word, clunky and hard to swallow. It doesn't fit, doesn't flow, doesn't make you want to claim it as your own. But it's the best you've got, so you use it, trying time and again to explain something that shouldn't make sense but just plain does.

They laugh at your efforts, your boys. They shrug and smile and tell you not to worry. They get it, and they are the only ones who matter, right? And you have to agree that, yes, they are right. But still... you feel that need, now, to label, to normalize, to make it palatable to your family.

"When have we ever been average?" Tommy asks, his hands on his hips, a smile tugging at his lips.

"When have we ever wanted to be _normal_?" Jason adds, looking up from his MMA magazine, an eyebrow raised.

And you sigh, because you can't explain it. It's not that you feel that you need to justify yourself. Far from it. It just... people need to _understand_.

You aren't strange or weird or oversexed. They aren't secretly in the closet. You aren't their beard. There is nothing "missing" from your relationship with either of them. No, you aren't a dom. No, they aren't doms. No, it's not about power or pain or jealousy or any of it.

It's love, damn it. Love for Tommy. Love for Jason. Love that isn't whole unless it encompasses both of them, twinning them together in your heart until you can't tell when it's Tommy's smile or Jason's laugh or both of them wrapped around you at night that's making your heart sing. Just that it is. And why is that so hard to understand? Why is that so hard to pin down? Why does everyone, even yourself to an extent, need to question and prod and pry until you feel like you are pressed between two sheets of glass, under the microscope, being examined to see what makes you tick.

Which you hate, because that implies that there is something innately _wrong_ with your relationship. That there is something that defies logic. And there _isn’t_. You and Tommy and Jason are _not_ just broken in some fundamental way. There is nothing at all damaged about what you have. It’s precious and beautiful and makes you so happy you are surprised you don’t explode from it.

There's just something about the three of you that clicks, that's _right_ in a way that nothing else ever has been.

And that's not just emotion speaking. That's the end result of you dating Tommy and it not working; you dating Jason and it not working; and Tommy and Jason dating each other and it not working either. When you did it the "normal" way something was always off, the puzzle pieces never quite fit. But put the three of you together and everything just snaps right into place.

The problem is... no one else seems to get it. Not even your fellow Rangers.

Sure, they are much more accepting and understand then other people you tell about it, far more than your family -- you mother still won’t talk to you and it’s been going on four years since you “came out” about it to her. Tommy’s mother calls you “that trashy whore,” which is better than what Jason’s father calls you, and way better than what you heard your cousin Jamie say about the three of you at your last family reunion.

But somehow none of that stings the way that having Aisha sit you down for that -- not intervention, that’s not what it was, but that’s what it felt like, with all her questions about you and your mental stability and your parents divorce. She hadn’t meant to hurt you, and was terribly upset when she realized that she had. But still. She said it. She _meant_ it. And no matter how damn P.C. she and every other Ranger has been since then, you can still hear it, that judgment, echoing in their too careful questions to Jason about his plans for the future, the blandly pleasant expressions on their faces when Tommy talks about your life together, the way the girls keep their mouths firmly closed when you coo over their babies.

 _Babies._

You squinch your eyes shut and try not to think about it any more. Try to let it roll off your shoulders because you are a big girl and you have made your choice and now you have to deal with the consequences. And no, it’s not fair. It’s not fair at all, but you knew it wasn’t going to be fair when you got into this. You knew that people would scratch their heads and look at you funny and that no matter how much you tried to explain, how understanding people might be, there would always be that space between what you are and what normal is considered to be.

And, damn, even _understanding_ makes you grit your teeth because understanding isn’t accepting, now is it?

It’s frustrating in the extreme, that you have to take understanding as the best you can get when what you really want is to just live you life and not have it matter at all. Acceptance. How hard is that? That’s what everyone else in the world wants, isn’t it? Acceptance of their personal beliefs and friendships and relationships. Acceptance. That’s what you want. Live and let live. Free to be you and me. Or whatever else the slogan might be.

It sounds so easy, so why is it so very, very hard?

And it hurts, damn it. It hurts to know that your closest friends, the ones who know absolutely everything about you, can’t accept your lifestyle choices. That they have more of an issue with this than they did with Billy and his non-human girlfriend. Because, really? Really? You and Tommy and Jason being in love with each other is harder to deal with than a human-alien relationship? How is that even possible?

You feel a flutter in your stomach and you smile. Then the smile melts away and a frown takes its place. Because you know what happened next. You know how they will react if -- no when, it’s definitely a when now-- you announce you are pregnant. They won’t be happy. Not genuinely happy, the way they were three months ago when Ashley told them she and Andros were expecting. No, they will be hesitant, worried. Concerned about you and your choices and how it will affect your baby. They will give you that look, the one that they gave Trini when she got involved with that control freak. The one they gave Adam after that incident with the broken morpher. The one they gave you when you first told them the truth about you and your boys.

That look that says that they love you, even if they don’t understand you. That they think you are making poor choices, but will stand by you. That they won’t even say “I told you so” when you get to the other side of this terrible, awful thing you are doing. That look. The one that cuts you up inside and makes you cry until there are no tears left.

Which, honestly, is probably why you try so damn hard to make it make sense to everyone else. Because you want them to accept you. To accept the three of you. To accept the fact that this isn’t some kinky sex thing and that the three of you are unit just as strong and worthy of acknowledgement as anything blessed by church and state.

And, yes, there is a baby, a wonderful, precious new life, growing inside of you. A baby who will have two daddies, which would be just fine if they were gay and your were their surrogate, but is wrong, wrong, wrong if the three of you love each other.

And it kills you that _that_ is how you are going to sell it to the world, that is the fiction you have to pass off as fact so that all of you have rights to your baby. That according to the government your child will have two “gay” adopted fathers and a “surrogate” biological mother instead of one healthy, happy trio of parents.

How is that right? How is that in any way right?

You press your hand to the slight curve of your stomach, take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. You remind yourself that this is how things have to be, of the long talks the three of you had before making the choice to start a family, of the fact that Tommy and Jason don’t like it any more than you do, that having a child together is worth the drama that it will stir up.

The three of you have caucused on this, examined it from all angles. You have a plan in place, an answer for any and all questions. You will make this work, the three of you, because this is what you want. A family. Together.

And so what if society says your relationship shouldn't work. It does. It works so damn well.

You and Tommy and Jason. The three of you. Making a life together. Making _life_ together. In all meanings of the word. And maybe no one gets it. Maybe no one will ever get it. But that doesn’t make it wrong.

Because the three of you love each other. You’re committed to each other. You’re going to go the distance, beat the odds. And the family you create together will be just as valid as anyone else’s, whether people understand that or not.

And knowing that gives you the strength you need. There’s three of you in this, and a cord of three strands is not quickly broken. You smile at the thought, revel in the implied subversion of applying it to you and your boys.

But it’s true.

There are three of you. A trio. A triad. You’re polyamorous, or polyandrous to be precise. You and Tommy and Jason. Joined together in ways you can’t describe and all the better for it. And it doesn’t matter if the rest of the world doesn’t understand or isn’t able to accept or whatever their drama might be. Because it works for you, the three of you. And in the end, that’s all the really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this drifted way off topic from the prompt, but I hope that it is still an enjoyable read.
> 
> <3 <3 <3


End file.
